Shao Yanzhe opened his eyes to find a massive spiderweb stretched between dark rafters.
“Wasn’t I just working overtime?”
He felt somewhat bewildered.
The next moment, a black spider the size of a baby’s fist suddenly dropped down, connected to the web above by its silk thread. The spider bounced back and forth in mid-air, barely a meter away from him.
He clearly saw the fine hairs on the eight legs of this black spider, the circular red patterns on its body, and its eight pitch-black eyes constantly rotating. In his daze, it seemed a flash of red light momentarily appeared.
Ten eyes met, the air suddenly froze, leaving only the sound of his heart pounding like drumbeats.
Shao Yanzhe’s modern rationality instantly collapsed. His body moved faster than his brain as he tumbled and scrambled off the bed. During the commotion, he seemed to knock something over. His bare feet stepped on the cold floor, and as he moved, he stepped on some sticky liquid, but he had no time to check. Staggering, he ran away from the spider.
His eyes scanned the surroundings, lighting up when he saw the door. Without thinking, almost instinctively, he rushed to the door, opened it, and ran out without daring to look back.
Only when he reached the courtyard gate did his legs give way, collapsing to sit on the ground. Covering his pounding heart with both hands, he gasped for breath with a dazed expression.
It was at this moment that his vision blurred, his temples throbbed violently, and a flood of memories not his own flashed through his mind.
Unfamiliar faces, fragmented words, increasingly gloomy scenes, desperate emotions, and finally the blue-black tooth marks on pale wrists – countless images flooded his mind, making him feel as if he had split into two halves: one a modern office worker, the other an ancient scholar.
Shao Yanzhe took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressing those unfamiliar memories. His modern memories ultimately gained the upper hand.
His mind cleared suddenly, and his eyes widened in realization – he had actually transmigrated!
And had become a poor scholar!
“Shao boy! Shao boy! What’s wrong with you?”
A somewhat rough male voice sounded as its owner hurried out from the neighboring courtyard, his face anxious, immediately spotting Shao Yanzhe sitting on the ground.
“Oh my, why are you sitting on the ground? Get up quickly!” The man promptly reached out to help him up.
Still shaken, Shao Yanzhe looked at the man and quickly retrieved from the original body’s memories that this was his cousin-uncle, Shao Heng.
Shao Heng had been orphaned since childhood. Later, the original body’s parents took pity on him and raised him for several years until he could support himself before he left their home. Therefore, after the original body’s parents passed away, he had been looking after the original body.
“Thank you, cousin-uncle!” Imitating the original body, he clasped his hands and bowed to Shao Heng in gratitude.
“No need, no need!” Shao Heng appeared somewhat flustered and quickly changed the subject. “By the way, what happened just now? Why are you in such a state?”
Shao Yanzhe thought about how he had been frightened into such disarray by a spider, a look of embarrassment flashing across his face. His eyes darting around, he said somewhat sheepishly, “It’s nothing. I just opened my eyes and saw a spider dropping from the beam, and didn’t react in time – it startled me.”
Shao Heng was taken aback, silently thinking to himself that this Shao lad truly lived up to being a scholar without the strength to truss a chicken—even a tiny spider could frighten him.
However, he knew better than to say it aloud. Young Shao had always been thin-skinned, and it wouldn’t do to upset him.
“It’s all right, spiders can be quite frightening. Where is it? I’ll help you get it out and release it on the mountain.”
At this, Shao Yanzhe eagerly replied, “It’s on the beam in the bedroom!”
Shao Heng entered the courtyard and stepped through the open door into the bedroom, immediately spotting the spider dangling right above the bed.
He hadn’t expected the spider to be so large. Forget Shao Yanzhe—even he felt a chill run down his spine at the sight.
But since he had offered to help, despite his unease, he steeled himself and found a bamboo basket. Tiptoeing closer, he swiftly captured the large spider inside. After scanning the area to ensure there were no others, he swept the cobweb down from the beam and carried the basket outside.
“How did it go, Uncle? Did you catch it?” Shao Yanzhe asked anxiously as Shao Heng emerged.
Shao Heng held up the bamboo basket, a hint of pride in his expression. “Of course I caught it!”
Shao Yanzhe cast a quick glance at the basket, not daring to look longer, and repeatedly expressed his thanks. “Thank you, Uncle!”
Still, he found it a bit odd. Wouldn’t chasing the spider away have been enough? Why go to the trouble of containing it in a basket?
But from the memories of his original body, he recalled that villagers often handled small creatures this way, so he assumed it was local custom and thought little more of it.
“No need to thank me. Go inside and rest—you look quite pale. I’ll take this little thing up the mountain. I’ve cleared the cobweb too, so no need to worry about it returning.”
“Alright, thank you for your trouble, Uncle.”
Shao Heng took a few steps, then turned back, a conflicted look on his face. “By the way, I’ve heard that several scholars have recently died at the county academy. Unless it’s necessary, you should avoid going back. The Imperial Examination is coming up soon anyway—you can study at home and review properly.”
“Understood, Uncle.”
Shao Yanzhe could grasp Shao Heng’s concern. With several deaths at the academy, it was only natural for his uncle to worry about him.
He watched Shao Heng leave and stood still for a moment before entering the house. However, still shaken from the earlier scare, he didn’t dare go into the bedroom just yet and instead settled in the main hall.
Suddenly, he glanced down at his wrist and noticed two red marks. His arm had a faint bluish tint, reminding him that, in his original body’s final memory, a spider had bitten his wrist—just before he arrived.
So, the original owner had died from spider venom?
Shao Yanzhe couldn’t help but feel a pang of irony. Some people get bitten by a spider and become Spider-Man; others get bitten and die.
Thankfully, he had reacted quickly—otherwise, another spider bite might have ended him for good.
Wait! His arm was still discolored. Could spider venom still be lingering in his system?
With this thought, he followed his original body’s memory, retrieved the last five taels of broken silver and some copper coins from the money box, locked the door, and headed to the village entrance, where an ox-cart stood waiting under the large tree.
The ox cart was the village’s only fast means of reaching the county town. With his current physical condition uncertain, walking there risked accelerating the toxin’s spread through his body.
Shao Yanzhe hurried forward to ask: “Uncle Li, could you take me to the county clinic now? Here’s twenty wen.”
He handed the counted copper coins to Uncle Li, who was feeding grass to the ox. The ox cart could seat ten people at two wen each, but Shao Yanzhe intended to charter the entire cart since his condition couldn’t afford delays.
“Deal! We’ll leave immediately!” Uncle Li’s eyes lit up. His ox cart rarely filled to capacity, and earning ten fares at once delighted him.
As the ox cart progressed along the relatively wide dirt road leading to the county town—about twenty li from Qingshan Village where his current body originated—Shao Yanzhe recalled from the original host’s memories that the county clinic physicians were highly skilled. He needed them to examine whether toxins remained in his system.
Uncle Li, seated at the front, occasionally prodded the ox while making conversation. “Young Shao, have you heard? Several scholars died at Wenyuan Academy in the county town.”
This was the same academy where the original host had previously studied.
“I know,” Shao Yanzhe replied. “My uncle just told me.”
Uncle Li glanced back with lingering fear in his eyes. “They say a female ghost is responsible. Those scholars were perfectly fine during the day, but after one night, they were dead—and in such gruesome states! Their flesh had completely vanished, leaving only pale bones. How dreadful!”
He then leaned closer to Shao Yanzhe, lowering his voice: “Some claim it was a cat demon—a black cat spotted on the academy walls.”
Amused by Uncle Li’s earnest expression, Shao Yanzhe chuckled. “Those are just rumors. Don’t frighten yourself, Uncle Li. The killer probably spread those stories to cover their tracks. Ghosts and demons don’t exist.”
Uncle Li gave him a strange look, straightened up, and muttered something inaudible. Shao Yanzhe didn’t catch the words but assumed they were unimportant and didn’t inquire further.
Freed from conversation, Shao Yanzhe finally focused on his own situation.
How did working overtime lead to time travel? Had he known extra hours would cause this, he’d have clocked out earlier. But regrets were useless now—he had to survive using this borrowed body.
From the original host’s memories, he learned the young man was named Shao Yi, styled Yanzhe, who had been preparing for the Xiucai examinations. Anxiety over the exams, financial strain, and exposure to cold wind had led to a fatal illness, culminating in death from a spider bite.
Though the original host obsessed over imperial examinations, Shao Yanzhe had no intention of continuing this pursuit. In his previous life, he’d risen from an orphan raised by village charity to a top-university graduate earning 300,000 yuan annually—all through relentless striving. But after working himself to death during overtime, he’d lost everything. Now he resolved to drift through life, especially since the original host had left him five taels of silver.
According to ancient and modern currency conversion, one wen is equivalent to fifteen cents in modern money. A carriage ride would only cost two wen, so the five taels of silver in his hand should last him quite a while.
He could figure things out slowly later.
At this thought, Shao Yanzhe sneered. Taking the Imperial Examination? Even dogs wouldn’t do it!
Well, if dogs won’t, he will!
Fine! He’ll take the exam, alright!
Shao Yanzhe stood at the entrance of the clinic, like a delicate white flower battered by wind and rain, exuding an air of desolation.
He glanced down at the seven packets of herbal medicine in his left hand, his pupils trembling, a flicker of pain flashing in his eyes as his eyelashes quivered.
These seven packets of herbal medicine had cost him five taels of silver!
Oh, wait, that wasn’t entirely accurate—at least he had five wen left.
Him! A proud time traveler, reduced to a penniless wretch with only five wen to his name on the very first day!
Clutching the remaining five wen in his pocket, Shao Yanzhe began to ponder. Given his current physical condition, he definitely couldn’t take on strenuous work to earn money in the short term.
His original self was already a Tongsheng, and the next step was to take the exam to become a Xiucai.
The Imperial Examination was in August, and it was now mid-July. If he could take the exam and become a Xiucai, he would receive one tael of silver and four dou of rice every month, which would be more than enough to support himself.
Shao Yanzhe was instantly tempted. So what if it was just becoming a Xiucai?
He’d do it!
With his survival concerns resolved, he suddenly felt invigorated and finally had the energy to take in his surroundings.
The street he was on was lined with small stalls selling snacks and various trinkets. To his eyes, these stalls were incredibly novel—things he’d never even seen in the modern era.
As he passed a stall selling fried small fish, Shao Yanzhe couldn’t resist and spent his last five wen on a packet of fried fish.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s still some food at home, enough to last half a month. Even without money, I won’t starve.”
He comforted himself, taking the packet of fried fish with a satisfied expression. The irresistible aroma wafted into his nostrils, making him want to take a bite right away, but he restrained himself, feeling too embarrassed to eat in front of others.
Shao Yanzhe felt somewhat relieved that he had told Uncle Li not to wait for him before going to the clinic—otherwise, it would have been awkward.
Suddenly, he froze. Had he just seen something out of the corner of his eye?
He looked back and met a pair of wary cat eyes. The cat’s eyes were particularly unusual: the left pupil was golden, while the right was black, making it look exceptionally distinctive.
What’s more, the cat’s fur was entirely black, except for a small tuft of golden fur at the tip of its tail. Its coat was glossy and sleek, like fine black silk, making one itch to reach out and stroke it.
Shao Yanzhe’s eyes instantly lit up, and he gazed at the black cat with an intense desire to pet it.
He glanced around but didn’t see anyone who looked like the cat’s owner.
However, he noticed that pedestrians passing by the black cat instinctively kept their distance, occasionally showing faint traces of fear.
Shao Yanzhe found this strange. He remembered that in ancient times, black cats were known as “xuan cats” and were considered talismans against evil, with the saying, “Xuan cats, objects that ward off evil, are best placed in the south, bringing benefit to descendants.” This was completely different from their modern association with misfortune.
So, why were these people so afraid of this black cat?